Sometimes Atsushi, and the other agency members, forgot that Kyōka was truly a fourteen-year-old girl. Being raised by the mafia didn't negate that aspect of her. She still craved to go out and eat sweets, or buy new toys.

Kyōka wanted friends.

She had Atsushi. Kyōka was grateful for him. And everyone else at the agency. But other than Kenji, there was nobody her age. That's why when you came over and introduced yourself to her one day at the park, she didn't know what to do so she stayed silent and ran away.

"It sounds like you're just nervous," Atsushi noted as he bought her a crepe to help lift her spirits. Kyōka looked thoroughly down when she realised she might've squandered her only chance to make a friend her age.

"It's strange. I've never been afraid of another person before quite like this," Kyōka bit into her crepe, staring down at her feet. She wanted, if only for a while, to be a normal fourteen-year-old girl. Not a doll for the mafia. Not an assassin with a body count of thirty-five.